


Don't Come Home, My Dear

by KiranInBlue



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Betrayal, F/M, Ficlet, One-Sided Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 04:44:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13206252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiranInBlue/pseuds/KiranInBlue
Summary: "I always knew you would leave."Leske reflects on his relationship with the Warden.





	Don't Come Home, My Dear

I always knew you would leave. 

I was a kid - not even old enough to grow the first wisps of a beard - when Beraht brought you to me. Your sister had struck a deal with him: she would share his bed, and when a noble took her as their concubine, Beraht would get a full half of her allowance. In exchange, he would give you a job and a place in the Carta. Small jobs, nothing too dangerous - as far as safe went in the Carta anyway. And no one would ever touch your body. “Show her the ropes,” Beraht had said to me. “She’s your responsibility.”

When you looked at me, there was a hard glint of defiance in your eyes and pride in your shoulders. That’s a look that doesn’t belong in Dust Town. It should have been kicked out of you years ago. 

I thought then that it was because your sister had coddled you. She protected you, so you’d never seen the truth of what it meant to be casteless. I wanted nothing to do with you; a defiant, prideful brand was dangerous. You wouldn’t have the caution it took to navigate the minefield of the Carta, and to be tied to you could be a death sentence. But when Beraht gives you an order, you don’t get a choice. 

I was right about some of that, by the way. You  _ were  _ dangerous. You were a loose cannon ricocheting around Orzammar’s underbelly, and I can’t count the number of times I had to pull you out of hot water. It’s a miracle we both survived. 

But I wasn’t right about all of it. You learned to spin words and steady your hand, to exercise patience and restraint. You saw guts and murder and cruelty - no one could protect you from that. And yet that defiance still burned in your eyes. I remember a few months after you’d come to work by my side, a power struggle broke out in the streets of Dust Town. A couple of beggar children got caught in the crossfire, and you dove into the battle to pull them out. 

When you made it to safety, one child was dead. You clutched the other squalling babe in a hand that had been mangled by a maul or a mace, or fuck, I don’t know. But your hand was messed up bad, and you lost two fingers that day. We bandaged up what you had left, and at the end you looked at me. One dead kid, two lost fingers -- and that fire still burned. 

And I knew then:  _ She’s going to make it out.  _

That pride wasn’t about being coddled at all. It was about you.  _ You  _ just didn’t belong in Dust Town. 

You would tell me about it, too. About how one day, you were going to make it to the surface. After a job we’d sit at the edge of a chasm, drinking whatever alcohol we were able to get our dirty branded hands on. 

“When I get to the surface,” you’d say, “I’m going to get a  _ horse _ .” 

I’d laugh. “Have you ever seen a horse before?” 

“No. Doesn’t matter. I’ll get one because I can. I hear they’re expensive. But I’ll have gold coming out my ears, and so I’ll get a horse and ride it as far across Thedas as I can.” 

“Right,” I’d say, playing along. “Well,  _ my  _ first thing would be to get one of those Mabari hounds the merchants talk about. A nice big, loyal warrior beast, following at my heels and fighting off my enemies without me having to lift a hand. I hear they’re big enough to ride too.” 

I was only joking, of course. I would never leave the embrace of the Stone. But you - oh, you were meant for the sun. Every time you spoke of your future on the surface, you  _ meant  _ it. You were going to leave. It was just a matter of when you’d saved up enough coin to bribe the guard to let you and your sister through. And when you left, I was going to be left behind. 

We didn’t always go to the chasm after a job. Sometimes, we fell into my bed. I’d touch you, and I’d feel the kind of emotions that are dangerous to feel in lives like ours. I wouldn’t name the emotions, but I knew they were there, and I knew I couldn’t tell you. You didn’t feel the same. You loved the surface. You loved your hope. There wasn’t room in your heart for anything else. I’d kiss you and know your mind was leagues away, basking in the sunlight. That was okay. You were never meant for Dust Town or the dull things that lived there. 

It took years before you got your chance. Sometimes, I’d entertain the thought of you staying. We wouldn’t live long lives, but I would never have to dance to the Carta’s drum without your glow to make it all worth _ something _ . 

Yeah. It was a stupid thought. 

But finally that Grey Warden came and offered to take you away. It didn’t take you more than a heartbeat to decide, did it? The only regret you’d have was leaving your sister behind. I’d help her out a bit, I promised. I owed her something for having brought you to me in the beginning. 

“I  _ have _ to go,” you’d said. There was that furious defiance in your eyes even then, as you pleaded with me to understand.

“I know,” I’d said. “Get out of here.” 

You looked back to your sister and steeled your expression. I understood. You loved her, but you had to survive. So you turned away, and walked out of Dust Town by the Grey Warden’s side.

The day you left, your sister and I busted out some shitty ale and toasted you. You’d survived Dust Town; you’d made it out. The surface didn’t know what it was in for. 

Turns out your sister didn’t need me after all. A few weeks after you left, she was snatched up by a damn prince and moved into the royal palace. I stayed in Dust Town, running the same kinds of jobs and eating the same kind of shit as we always did. That’s all a duster like me is meant to do. 

Beraht was dead. Jarvia came to power. I threw my lot in with her; you never really understood this, but down here, you go where the strength is. Having been raised by Beraht, I had to work a little extra to make it in her crew. Be a little more brutal, a little more cruel. A little more selfish. It wasn’t hard to do; you were gone. You’d made it. That was all that mattered. 

And then you had to go and  _ come back _ . 

You see, Jarvia knew about you and me. Knew we’d had each other’s backs for years. Knew about those emotions I wouldn’t name. Did I come up with the plan to set you up? Yeah. I had to. The moment you stepped back into Orzammar, you made me choose. Jarvia was watching me, and if I didn’t turn you in, I would never be trusted under her Carta. Just following her plans to trap you wouldn’t be enough either. I had to take initiative, or you’d always be my weakness. To the Carta,  _ I’d  _ be weak. And you can’t survive Dust Town if the Carta doesn’t trust you. I’m not like you. I was never getting out. I didn’t have a choice.

You just had to come back. Why did you come back? 

You will ask me how I could betray you. Did I ever care about you? Of course I did. I loved you more than I’ve ever loved anything. But never let a little thing like love get in the way of survival. You taught me that. 


End file.
